188 Mr. Edward F. Benson [May 1, 



WEEKLY EVENING MEETING, 



Friday, May 1, 1914. 



Sir James Chichton-Browne, J.P. M.D. LL.D. F.R.S., Treasurer 

 and Vice-President, in the Chair. 



Edward F. Benson, B.A. 



A Criticism on Critics. 



There are many characteristics of the human race, which we may 

 say for certain existed in the earliest ages of the world, and will 

 continue to be characteristic of the race until we have developed 

 into supermen, or liave l)een destroyed by a comet, or have come to 

 any such good or ])ad end as Mr. Bernard Shaw or Mr. Wells so 

 coufidently predict for us. Primitive man certainly looked about for 

 something to eat when he was hungry, and took any rude or reason- 

 able steps to obtain it. He laughed, as we do, when he was amused 

 at some grotesque calamity that had happened to a friend, and 

 foamei at the mouth, us we do, when the same diverting incident 

 occurred to bimself , and, if we may judge from his habits at the present 

 day, it seems quite certain that if one primitive man sat down and 

 begau to construct something of whatever sort, other primitive men 

 formed a riug round him, and, after watching him for a little told 

 him, even though they did not clearly know what he was doing, 

 that lie was duing it wrong. Indeed there is a Rabbinical legend of 

 high antiquity that when Adam began to exercise the earliest of all 

 known arts, that of apron-making. Eve stood by and watched him. 

 She soon informed him that he had not the slightest notion of 

 how to sew, upon which Adam, with excellent forbearance, merely 

 replied, "No, my dear, but I am learning" .... At least, if there 

 is not such a legend there ought to be, for it presents in archaic 

 form those most ancient instincts of constructive artists and critics. 



Tlie charm of standing by and telling people they do not know 

 he>w to do W'hat they are doing, is of universal application. It is 

 sufficient that somebody should faint at a football match for him to 

 be instantly surrounded by a ring of critics, one of whom holds his 

 head up, a second lays it down, a thii'd unlnittons his collar, a fourth 

 removes his hat, while a fifth covers his knees with a coat. They 

 are not, as you might superficially suppose, trying to give him first 

 aid ; they are critics showing him how to faint. It is probable that 

 the artist in question knows how to faint perfectly well, and is doing 

 it quite nicely : it is probable, too, that these unfortunate critics are 



